


Can I Call You His Name?

by Priestlyislove



Category: It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia
Genre: Asexuality, Denial of Feelings, Drug Use, Drunk Sex, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Manipulation, Past Sexual Abuse, Smut and Angst, Unrequited Love, Whoo boy where do I begin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-20
Updated: 2016-06-20
Packaged: 2018-07-16 03:52:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,454
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7250887
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Priestlyislove/pseuds/Priestlyislove
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Charlie has always settled for less than the best. Maybe he could've been a better kid, maybe he could've made some better choices, but regardless; he had never gotten the best and he had never deserved it. So when Mac comes to him, drunk and desperate for the love of someone else, Charlie will take what he can get.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Can I Call You His Name?

"You're so dumb, Charlie." Mac slurred. There was something almost affectionate in his tone. Or maybe Charlie was just grasping for straws. "How are you still even alive? Look at you."

Charlie tensed up subconsciously. He knew the drill. His fingers danced across the table, searching for paint or gasoline or anything that could numb his mind. Dennis and Mac's place wasn't exactly stocked for this sort of thing, and Charlie felt a pang of longing for his own apartment. He stumbled upon a half empty beer and took a long drink from it.

Mac hiccuped. _How many beers had it been?_ Charlie's tolerance was too strong, or maybe Mac's wasn't strong enough. "...Do you hate me, Charlie?"

"Why would you say that, man?" Charlie stared at the bottle. "You know I don't."

"Why not?" Mac sniffled. "I'm so bad at everything. Dennis is right, I'm stupid and useless. I'm just no good. I'm nothing like Dennis. I-i mean, he does bad things and people tell me 'Dennis is a bad man' but I don't fucking care, y'know? Dennis is bad, I'm bad, it's just how things are." _Dennis, Dennis, Dennis_. Charlie fingered the neck of the bottle, mentally counting the times Mac spoke that name. He hated that he did that. He knew he had to let it go.

He didn't say what he was thinking. Instead, he gave him a half smile. "You're not bad, dude. I don't think you are."

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Mac look at him with his sad puppy dog eyes. He couldn't take that look. "Really?"

"Really." he cleared his throat and stood. He set the beer back down on the table, even though his mind was screaming for him to smash it against the ground. He wandered into the kitchen, clutching the sink and staring at the disposal. He heard Mac stumble after him.

They had been friends forever. When Charlie was only nine, and Mac was what? Seven? Eight? Charlie never could tell. It didn't matter. That's when they kissed the first time. Mac told him he tasted like cigarettes and mud. They didn't talk about that again. And they didn't talk about when Mac touched Charlie's dick in middle school, because it was just "experimenting" and it didn't mean anything. Maybe Mac couldn't remember because of how much he drank, but Charlie didn't ever mention when they were going to have a threesome in high school that when she ditched, they still went through with it. He wouldn't dare risk what they had. It wasn't a lot, but Charlie had never had a lot.

Mac wrapped his arms around Charlie from behind, leaning down to bury his face in Charlie's hair. He gripped the sink tighter, focusing on his breathing. "I don't want you to hate me, man. 'Cause I-I like you a lot. You're my best friend." His right hand traveled down his back, working its way to the front of Charlie's jeans. He brushed against his dick. "Maybe more than that..." Charlie held his breath as Mac shifted, nipping his ear. "M-maybe I like you a whole lot more than just a f-friend..."

"Do you?" Charlie spoke stalely. How many times had this conversation sent his heart running? He wanted to scream. He wanted to yell, _god damn it Mac, you're gay, you're gay and you're not in love with me, I'm just the only one who keeps your secret._

"I think I love y..." Charlie squeezed his eyes shut. "I think I...I think I wanna see your dick." His hand slipped under his jeans, tugging on his underwear. "Will you show me?"

Charlie unzipped his pants. Mac was drunk, and he didn't mean it, he never meant it (well; he did want to see someone's dick. Just not Charlie's.) but Charlie was desperate. Besides, he was a bad man too. His hands trembled slightly as he pulled his jeans off. He was the nightman, after all. The spirit infested him when his uncle touched him, and he spread it to Mac like a plague every time they touched. Charlie didn't like it, but he was desperate to be loved, and if he could only be loved sexually than that's what he would take.

Mac pulled his underwear off with the sort of wild hunger you'd expect from a starving animal. He ran his hand along Charlie's penis, causing him to shiver. He kissed his neck and wrapped his hand around it. He was always too rough, or maybe he was never rough enough. Charlie didn't know what he wanted.

This time, Mac paused. He started undoing his own pants, in a drunken fumble that Charlie might've once been able to laugh at. Charlie instantly wrapped his hands around the rim of the sink again. He knew this was his only chance to get what he wanted. "Tell me you love me."

"Hmm?" Mac glanced up as he slipped off his boxers, revealing his own hard dick.

"Tell me you love me." Charlie clenched his jaw. "That's why you're doing it, right? Because you love me." _Lies, lies, lies_. But maybe if he could get Mac to say it out loud enough times, it would become true.

Mac smiled a little, visibly relieved that his demand was a simple task. "Y-yeah, I love you, buddy." Charlie bit back a cry as Mac went in raw. He closed his eyes again. Mac continued to try and jack off his dick as he began thrusting. Charlie felt like he couldn't breath. He didn't understand why anyone would like this.

Mac moaned. "Fuck yeah..." he grunted. "This is good...this is really awesome." He continued mumbling random praises as he began to reach his climax. "Oh fuck! Fuck!" Charlie could only gasp. No words escaped his throat, and if they did, what would they be? It was better if he stayed quiet. "Fuck, Den!" Mac blew his load inside him. He always came fast when he was with Charlie. He shouted, "Dennis!"

They panted and slowly pulled away from each other, face to face, but not looking into each other's eyes. Mac planted a sloppy kiss on his face. "I-I need to...bathroom..." Charlie pushed past him halfheartedly.

He locked the bathroom door behind him, headed straight for the medicine cabinet. They had to have _something_. In a passing glance, he caught his reflection in the mirror. He stopped to stare. He reached a tentative hand up to his cheek, not believing what he saw. _Was he crying?_

"Dumbass," he looked away, turning his attention back to the cabinet. "You know you're not who he wants. He thinks you're too dumb to remember these nights, he thinks you're too stupid to realize he doesn't love you. Maybe you are. You keep coming back for more."

He took out a bottle of pills. For once, he looked at his hands. _Really_ looked at them. They were hairy and calloused and there was dirt under his nails. He looked at his reflection again. Puffy eyed, covered in acne and looking like he hadn't slept in weeks. He was scruffy and his eyes were brown and his features were soft and he didn't look a thing like Dennis. "No wonder he doesn't like you."

He threw back his head, a cascade of little pills pouring down his throat. He hoped he would choke this time.

He didn't. He just went back out into the apartment, where Mac had passed out on the floor. He dragged him back to his room. He stared at Mac's stupid face with his dumb beard and silly round nose. "I wish I hated that face." He murmured to himself. He kissed his forehead lightly. "I wish I hated your dumb Project Badass and your stupid laugh and the ridiculous plans you make." Charlie touched his chest gently, feeling for his soft heartbeat. "And I know you wish that I was Dennis." He could feel the pills kicking in. He would fall asleep soon. He got up to head back into the living room, where he planned to collapse on the couch and dream this night away.

He spared one last longing glance in Mac's direction. He couldn't always get what he wanted. He was beginning to feel like he never got what he wanted. But Mac wanted something else too, so this was a sort of compromise. Neither of them had agreed to it. But it's what they had. And regardless of what names Mac cried out and how gross the whole thing made him feel, there was no way in hell Charlie was ready to give it up. 

"You can call me any name you want."


End file.
